The Hardest Part
by jesuisl0ser
Summary: Angel is dying and contemplating her love for Collins and his love for her...Songfic to Cancer by MCR. AngelCollins OneShot.


**A/N: Yet another songfic from me. The song "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance describes someone with cancer and obviously, Angel has AIDS, but many of the lyrics reminded me of her, so...here you go. -This fic is dedicated to my aunt, who is battling breast cancer and is still going strong. -  
****DISCLAIMER: I do not own Rent or the song "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance.

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_Turn away..._

_If you could get me a drink of water_

'_cause my lips are chapped and faded_

_Call my Aunt Marie, help her gather all my things_

_and bury me in all my favorite colors_

_My sisters and my brothers, still,_

_I will not kiss you..._

'_Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you._

Her eyes flutter open and closed, open and closed...almost as if they were forming a pattern; her eyelids moving to an unfamiliar beat. The white walls of the room blend in with everything else until she can see nothing at all. The fever is dying down, but the effects are still with her. Twisting and turning and thrashing underneath the covers, she gasps for the air that her lungs just won't let in. But she can feel the gentle touch of his soft fingers against her own curled up, clammy ones. That gives her the reassurance that she is still alive, even for that split second—_I'm still living. Not dead yet. He's still here. I'm still here._

"It's okay, baby," she hears his voice whisper in the silence, "I'm not gonna let go of you."

She forces her eyes linger open just to look at his face for a brief moment. He is tired, she can tell. There are bags under his beautiful brown eyes, and he's doing everything he can to resist falling asleep in the chair that he's pulled up next to her bed.

He notices that she's awake and smiles at her. "Hey," he says, gently stroking her hand. She lets her eyes close again and squeezes his hand as a 'hello' back to him.

"How are you feeling?" he inquires.

She takes a deep breath and musters up enough energy to mutter, "Okay..."

She feels his lips press against her forehead ever so lightly. She smiles at his touch, and she can almost hear him smile back. That's been her strategy that she's developed—letting her ears replace her eyes when she's too weak to keep them open.

"You want a drink?" The concern in his voice prompts her to nod 'yes' just to make him feel better knowing that she's drinking something. She hears him get up and grab the cup of water on the other side of the room.

Soon the cool liquid is flowing down her throat, relaxing her slightly. He's holding the cup to her dry lips, pulling it away every so often and asking if she wants another sip. She drinks until there isn't a drop left in the cup, and he offers to get her some more. But she doesn't want him to leave, even for a minute or two, so she replies with a shake of her head.

She finds herself drifting off to sleep after a while, but she never lets go of his hand. He doesn't have any intention of letting go either.

_Now turn away,_

'_cause I'm awful just to see_

'_Cause all my hairs abandoned all my body_

_Oh, my agony! Know that I will never marry_

_Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo_

_But counting down the days to go_

_It just ain't living_

Today is one of her better days, if you can call it that. She wants him to sleep, for he hasn't even closed his eyes for more than a few seconds in the past three days. She begs him to go home and get some rest. He denies her request and stays at her bedside.

"Go home for a few hours, honey," she whispers hoarsely, "I don't want you getting sick, too."

He shakes his head firmly. "I wanna make sure you're okay."

But she knows, yes. She sees. She hears. She sees him nod off and then jolt awake minutes later, cursing himself. She hears him cry for her, his hurting, shaking sobs ringing through her ears while he thinks she is tuned out of the world around her.

"Don't worry about me," she tries to protest once again.

"I think that's too much to ask," says he, a weak smile forming on his lips.

He rests on the bed beside her, and his rhythmic breathing lulls her to sleep. She is never able to know whether he dozed off himself, for when she awakens once again, he is looking down at her lovingly and stroking short hair.

She understands how hard it is for him to smile when he really feels like crying, and wants to comfort him. But at this point, there aren't any remaining comforting words to say.

She doesn't want to leave him, but she'll have to, eventually.

_And I just hope you know_

_That if you say_

_Goodbye today_

_I'd ask you to be true_

A week later. She is confused. Is she still breathing? Is she still alive? She can't tell. She feels nothing, hears nothing, sees nothing. But yes, she is breathing, and the only one who can see that is him. He's trying to keep her in reality for as long as he can until she starts to slip away.

"Baby? You awake?"

His voice. She hears it. She listens. "Mmhmm," she croaks. Her feeling is back again, and she can feel the warmth of his body as she rests against his chest.

She hears him choke out a sob and wants to cry herself, but has no tears left—she has _nothing_ left. At the thought, she whispers to him, "I wish...I could have...given you...more..."

"You gave me everything. You're the one who deserves more," he argues, his voice cracking.

She lets out a shuddering breath and clutches on to his hand under the sheets. "Take care of...everyone..."

"You know I will." He kisses the side of her head.

There is a long silence with the exception of his crying and her uneven breaths.

"You're strong...so strong...you'll be fine," she finally says, forcing her final smile. "I love you, Thomas Collins."

He lets out a forlorn cry and stutters, "I love you too, Angel Dumott Schunard."

His voice fades, along with everything else. She faintly hears him singing in between cries..._I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love / Now I know you can rent it, a new lease you are my love, on life / Be my life..._

Angel and Collins. Collins and Angel. Both of them have always liked the ring, the flow of their names put together.

Now, it's just Collins. One name, one person. No longer two.

She watches over him and hopes that their names can be joined together with that three-letter conjunction once again.

Until then? Angel waits.

'_Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you..._

_...'Cause the hardest part of this..._

_is leaving you._


End file.
